


Hanging Out Together

by wanderingminstrel



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Monster Falls, Budding Love, Deer Dipper Pines, Fluff, M/M, Wolf Bill Cipher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:46:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingminstrel/pseuds/wanderingminstrel
Summary: Dipper likes to learn new things, mostly because that means there'll be less in the world that startles him.However, Bill choosing not to eat him will always make his heart race. He can't help it; it's just instinct.





	

Dipper may be cervitaur, and there come certain stereotypes with having four hoofed feet, but he's never felt quite as tempted to eat grass as he is right now.

It isn't that grass is particularly tasty—or, at least, not that he's aware of. He has his pride, thank you, even if his ears are terribly good at giving away his every emotion, no matter how insignificant or minute. He's never eaten grass, never intended to even try it, and yet here he is.

Staring down green blades of temptation, allowing his eyes to roam the veins inside, both in rich forest and spring shades.

He's hungry and it's a good distraction.

Because, if he doesn't focus on _something_ , that means he has to focus on the wolf, who's dangling from a series of tangled bindings about six or seven feet behind him, and whose struggles rock the hefty branch they're both attached to.

Unpredictable, sure. Who would have guessed he would wander into some kind of complicated snare? Who would have guessed Bill would be stupid enough to see him just hanging there and think there weren't more traps?

Dipper's forelegs are netted up and bent underneath him together, his hind legs are caught at different angles which has him in an awkward spread, and his human torso is hanging out of all of it with his arms twisted around behind his back.

His face is a few inches from the ground.

Bored out of his mind, Dipped leans forward and licks a blade of grass.

" _Eugh_ ," sounds out from behind him, disgust soaking the noise, "are you eating grass?"

Dipper glances at the view he has beneath his furred stomach and instantly regrets it. The wolf is staring at him—gaping, really—teeth bared in distaste and golden eye squinted. His ears and tail are puffed as though he's witnessed some kind of nasty, leggy bug revealed from under a rock.

Although, knowing the wolf, he'd like stuff like that.

Dipper's face goes hot and he looks away. "Gross! _No_."

"You _were_ ," Bill says, his voice awed. "You were going to eat grass."

"I wasn't!" Dipper denies, voice cracking. He squirms in his tethers, humiliation crawling all over him. Oh god, he hates this. He hates the wolf, yeah, but he hates being stuck with him like this even more. It was funny at first, but Bill has a terrible way of making everything work for him. This has been absolutely no exception.

"Hey, kid, if you're going to give me dinner _and_ a show, I'm not about to complain."

Like _that_.

Dipper stops moving all at once, because he knows what this looks like. He doesn't even have to ask. He can imagine it. The rope has his back legs practically spread for the wolf, all propped up, like he's some kind of presenting female. And, while Bill hasn't said it outright, he can feel the creepy, leering stare of the guy as he eyes him up, from the curve of his thighs to the fluff of his tail.

A very, very sensitive tail, which has a terrible habit of going up when he's alarmed. Useful for deer? Definitely. Useful for him? _No_.

"Look, can't you just, I don't know, cut us down or something?" Dipper asks, exasperation lacing his tone. They've been here for hours now and he knows the answer, but he has to at least try.

"Do I _look_ like I can do that?" Comes the openly agitated voice of the carnivore.

Dipper looks at him upside down again.

Bill's almost gotten it worse than himself—the wolf's hands and furry feet are all tangled in some kind of gordian knot of rope and he's hanging by it, his tail dangling from him and brushing the ground slightly when the wind swings them. Not a single claw or fang can reach to tear through the material.

It's driving Bill nuts, which is great, but Dipper would much rather be set free then spend the night with someone who seems to enjoy the idea of eating him.

Unfortunately, he's pretty sure Mabel won't be able to do much from her tank and Grunkle Stan probably won't think anything's wrong until he doesn't come home. So, it's a waiting game. His only comfort is the fact that if someone does come along and cuts them free with ill intent, Bill will probably take great delight in carving them up.

Which means Dipper will have enough chance to flee— _not because he's a cervitaur_ , just because that would be the wise thing to do.

He doesn't even notice that he's started to nod off, the sun having set, until he feels himself bounce. He wakes with a full body shake, blinking his eyes open. "Huh—? Wha—?"

"Don't fall asleep," chides Bill.

The shaking has stopped now and it takes Dipper's sluggish mind a moment to figure out that it's his companion who caused it. "Wh— why?" He stammers, feeling slow on the uptake.

Bill makes a pained noise. "Do I have to explain everything? Think about how you're hanging, kid. You fall asleep and all the blood'll rush to your head. You'll _die_."

There's a pointed pause.

" _Not_ that I'm against that, personally," the wolf adds, as though it needed to be said. "I just don't hang with corpses, if you catch my drift."

Dipper tries to look at the wolf, feeling some kind of compulsion to see the man's expression, but his night vision fails him and all he can make out is a single eye twinkling at him in the darkness like a star. Has it really gotten that late? Or are the leaves blocking out the light?

Either way, he's sure the wolf can see him just fine, so Dipper stops looking at him.

Okay. Right. No sleeping. Yeah, that's logical—more than sensible. He's already going to have rope burns from where the ties have dug into his skin, fur or not. He doesn't need to add unnecessary brain damage to that list, either.

Dipper sighs and, after a moment, feels himself say, "Thanks." He doesn't know why he says it, it just seems like the right thing to do.

"Eugh," comes that noise again. "Please, don't. I'd rather watch you graze a whole field than ever hear that again."

Dipper looks into the darkness at that glowing light. "Thanks, Bill." He says it this time just to bother the wolf.

Instead, of course, he gets a snicker. _Of course_ he does. That kind of weakness would be too good to be true. "Don't worry about it! With the view I've had all day, I can think of plenty ways for you to 'thank me' later."

Feeling his face heat again, Dipper grits his teeth. It's just Bill. _Bill is Bill._ He can handle this.

He can definitely handle this.

"So, what," Dipper says casually, although his ears aren't casual in the slightest, flicking slightly with his nervousness, "you're coming onto me?"

There's a beat and then, "Wow, you're just asking that _now?_ "

That gives Dipper pause. And then he balks. "What do you mean, _I'm just asking that now?_ "

"Damn," Bill says condescendingly, "and I thought you were smart!"

It doesn't explain anything, which is likely the point. Dipper feels himself growl a little, although humanly. Deer don't growl, after all. "So you're—," he struggles for words, "you're… into me."

It's an accusation and one he's not saying lightly. He feels stupid even uttering this kind of thing.

"Kid, I want to be _all kinds_ of _into you_."

That's… pretty blunt. Which is what Bill is most of the time, when he's not being infuriatingly vague. Which… is the other most of the time.

Bill seems to take his shocked silence as a cue to keep going. "I've eaten guys like you before—all grisly, too much horn and hoof. Disgusting. If you'd muscle up a bit you'd be a real treat! I'd jerk you in the nonsexual way and have venison through winter!"

Dipper doesn't know how to respond to that at all.

" _But_ ," and the word is lilted, smoothly added as an afterthought, like some kind of vocal foreplay that has Dipper's ears swiveling back and forth with a combination of interest and uncertainty, "I kind of like you. Food's a dime a dozen for me—toys are rare."

Dipper swallows. His face is burning, he can feel it radiating off of him. It doesn't mean much, but Bill's claimed to like him. Sure, it's in his own, fucked up, Bill way, but he still said it. He likes him—Bill, the crazy wolf who lives in the woods and prefers that his prey can talk, likes him.

He's either the _luckiest_ cervitaur in the world…

Or the _unluckiest_.

Either way, it's too much. There's too much… blood rushing to his head. And he's been hanging upside down for hours. And… so, maybe it isn't that much of a shock when he starts to faint. Yeah.

"Kid! Kid! Oh— for fuck's sake!"

\--

Dipper wakes up in his bed, which… is odd, because he doesn't remember how he got here.

Sitting up, his first thought is that everything was a dream, but the immediate squeal from his sister, her tank cozied up to the side of his bed, dispels that somewhat.

"Oh my god, you're alive! You're okay!" And then Mabel's embracing him. Wetly. Which, he's used to, but it still kind of takes him by surprise every time. Mermaids are kind of like that.

"I— uh," Dipper says, fumbling for some kind of response.

From what he can hear, there are birds chirping and the television downstairs is playing, which means it's the middle of the day.

"What happened?" Mabel gushes, the question fundamentally backwards. Dipper should be asking that.

"W- what do you mean?" Dipper stammers.

Mabel releases a breath. "What do you mean, what do I mean! We found you on the porch this morning! You had weird cuts all over you! What happened? Were you being hunted by something?"

Dipper looks down at his arms and legs and, sure enough, there are bandages wrapped around likely sterilized wounds from where the rope dug into him. Stan probably recognized them for what they were but explained them away as cuts…

"Um, no," Dipper lies. Sort of. He wasn't being hunted, if that counts. He was just… inadvertently caught by a hunter. Sort of. Yeah. "I… I don't know. I don't really remember."

Okay, so that's a big lie.

Mabel goes quiet, looking at him carefully for a moment, and it's times like these that he knows she knows. She _always_ knows. But, after a few seconds, she nods slowly. "Well, okay." It's a reluctant acceptance.

She does, however, half leap out of her tank to pull him into a tight hug, which he returns before she slides back into the water.

"Just be safe out there, okay bro? I can't—," she cuts off, splashing the water with a hand.

They weren't always like this. They used to be normal humans, who had adventures and…

And, now they're not.

Dipper grabs one of her hands and squeezes. "I'll be more careful."

She smiles at that, believing him on this one.

\--

Of course, being more careful should have implied he wouldn't go back out into the dangerous woods. It doesn't—his sister knows him better than that—but wandering back out the very same day probably wasn't high up on her approval list.

"Wow, you bounce back fast."

And, apparently, Bill didn't quite expect it either.

The wolf has a territory and Dipper is vaguely aware of where that line is, but he's also firmly out of that boundary right now, suspiciously close to the Mystery Shack.

Dipper sighs and holds up a pack. "First aid."

Bill glares at him. "What are you implying, Pine Tree?"

"Look, don't bullshit me." Dipper walks forward, gingerly, his legs still achy and sore from the hunter's trap. "I passed out, you got free, and you brought me back here. I'm not about to ask why— y'know, I don't want to know— but, if you're hurt I'm not about to not return the favor."

The wolf peers at him, scrutinizing Dipper. He's been hunched in on himself the whole time, but after a moment he slowly uncurls. Dipper winces—Bill's ankles and wrists are raw and scabbed over. The damage is pretty brutal.

Without a word, he opens the pack and draws near with confident steps, plopping down right next to the wolf while trying not to think about how vulnerable a position this is. It helps that he has something to do and, with Mabel as his sister, he's pretty good at basic treatment.

"I didn't say I brought you home," the wolf tells him as Dipper starts to clean off one of his wrists.

The cervitaur spares him a look that makes even Bill sheepish.

"Yeah, dumb comment— hey, I have my moments too, kid. I'd have _a lot_ more energy if I just ate you back there."

But, he didn't.

It hangs unsaid between them, uncomfortable but not unwelcome.

Dipper finishes bandaging up the first wrist.

It's strange, touching Bill like this. The wolf's skin is warm under his fingers, the man a literal furnace of heat, and his nails don't look all that sharp up close. Well, they're sharp, yeah, but they seem manageable enough. The rest of his hands are human-like, though. Deceptively so.

And his palms are soft, not calloused like Dipper would have suspected them to be.

Bill clears his throat and Dipper feels himself freeze up, because he's just been called out on basically getting distracted and groping the wolf's left hand. He must look hilarious, because Bill laughs before taking back his hand and offering his leg.

And wounded ankle. For treatment. Right.

He's not _verbally_ called out on what he did, which is almost more maddening than Bill just saying something, and Dipper can't bring himself to look up at the wolf, because that's like admitting to what he did. So, he focuses everything he can on cleaning the first ankle, which doesn't take too long. Then, he moves onto the second.

Once he's done, Dipper just stares at his handiwork, a satisfied feeling blooming in his chest for having done a good deed. Even if it is for an asshole.

Bill, as if waiting for this exact moment of peace, right as Dipper starts to rise to his feet, shoots forward and knocks the cervitaur's legs out from under him. Dipper yelps, but falls on Bill, who seems smug about it.

"What are you—,"

"You know that passing out isn't the same as sleeping, right?"

Dipper just frowns up at Bill, trying to ignore how he's basically sprawled over the wolf's lower half. "Why does that—,"

"You're tired, kid. _Relax_. What's the rush?"

"Um," Dipper says smartly.

"Yeesh, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"So you… want me to… take a nap," Dipper sounds out slowly, face scrunching as the idea progresses, "here?"

The wolf just shrugs. "Beats the nightmares you'll have in your room."

"How did you—," Dipper stops. Oh. Deer. He's a— yeah. Skittish.

Which he hates, but it's not… wrong. Dipper likes being in the forest, but when he first got tied up in that hunter's trap he panicked. Bad. It was embarrassing and it got him tangled up even worse than he had to have been. If he'd just been logical about it, he probably could have freed himself from the start.

Instead, panicked cervid noises. For like a minute straight.

Dipper goes rigid suddenly. "You heard me and—,"

The accusation falls short when he looks at Bill, who's got his arms under his head and his single eye, for once, is closed. The wolf's face is placid and calm, like he really is asleep.

He's not. Dipper's not that stupid. There's no way this kind of guy would just conk out that fast. It's a trick—a really convincing one, but still.

Dipper looks at Bill, who looks asleep, and then looks at himself.

The position he's in… isn't that uncomfortable. And… sleep _does_ sound nice. Just a short nap. Bill could have eaten him before, right? And he didn't. Eating him now would render all of that moot. It's not like Bill did this just to get his wounds treated. In fact, the nap thing is probably just so he doesn't have to say thank you.

Or, the nap _is_ Bill's way of saying thank you.

Dipper feels himself relax before he can stop it, his instincts whirring into a disarmed lull. It doesn't make sense to do this, but it doesn't make sense for Bill to hurt him now. And, napping with the forest's most dangerous predator means that nothing else will bother them, in theory.

Which… is about the point that Dipper gives in, comfortable drowsiness frothing at the edges of his mind.

He makes a lot of mistakes and he'll own up to that…

But, accepting Bill's indirect thank you doesn't feel like one of them.


End file.
